The Philosopher. And what a pity that would have been—wouldn’t it?
The Lady. You mean that it makes very little practical difference to us?
The Philosopher. It would if the town were being bombarded. The Newtonian calculations are considered useful by the artillery schools. But it is true that it was Newton and not an artillery officer who made them.
The Lady. You mean that the artillery captain would have been too intent on practical matters?
The Philosopher. And in too much of a hurry. Then there’s the steam-engine. Useful invention—the very soul of hurry. Who invented it—some anxious postilion who thought horses were too slow? Or somebody whose mind was so empty of practical concerns that it could be intrigued by a tea-kettle? And by the way, it was Stephenson, wasn’t it, who applied the steam-principle to locomotion? I’ve a very poor memory, but I think Watt’s engine was just a toy. No practical use whatever. Other people found out the practical uses for it. Arkwright. Fulton. Hoe. Et cetera.
The Lady. I see. The results of thinking may be put to use afterward, but the motive for thinking is not the desire to produce such results. I wonder if that is true?
The Philosopher. What is the common reproach against philosophers and scientists?
The Lady. That they are impractical. But inventors—
The Philosopher. Did you ever know an inventor?
The Lady. Yes....